


In the heat of the forge

by Noe_ARK



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, Intimacy, Random & Short, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Short, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:09:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noe_ARK/pseuds/Noe_ARK
Summary: Arya and Gendry reunite in Winterfell





	1. Chapter 1

Gendry knows she’s there. Arya doesn’t know he’s coming.

And then, now as they are finally together once again, reunited at last, she…  
Ignores him. She doesn’t talk to him, doesn’t even look at him, there’s not the tiniest bit of an interaction between the both of them.  
He’s busy working on the armor of the soldiers anyways, so he wouldn’t even have the time for a chat with her. 

At least that’s what he tells himself.

She trains almost all day, at least that was what he saw when he had to drag the armor around Winterfell, request new materials or get into the great hall for one of the few times that he was actually eating something.  
However, when he did spot her, he was mesmerized every single fucking time. The way she moved around, her sword lying in her hands like it weighted nothing, swirling around like it was a part of her body. He found she was nearly graceful doing so.  
Dangerous and deadly of course, but there was something in her movements that seemed almost exhilarating.  
She was like a poison to him, once he had settled his eyes onto her, he couldn’t force himself to go on walking with all his might. The desire rising up inside his body. Only when someone approached, or he felt someone else was watching him, he dragged his limps along, moving his gaze aside from her frame, even if it physically pained him to do so.  
During the daytime he tried his best to focus on his work and not to think about her, but in the exact second that he’d set the hammer and the sword or armor he was working on aside, his mind would straight away turn back to her. He would relive each moment that he looked at her and his memories would always run back to the moment in which he entered the Castle that he had heard about for so long. 

Specifically, the moment that he laid his eyes on her for the first time in years.

She was embracing her brother in a tight hug. He couldn’t see her face then as the frame of Jon almost covered her up completely, but he was sure that she was smiling.

At least a little bit. 

Next to her was a tall red-haired, beautiful woman, that he guessed was her sister Sansa – the Lady – who held onto a wheelchair, in which sat a dark haired young man with an inconclusive facial expression. He seemed stiff and somehow even a little bit cold as he was watching his siblings embrace each other.  
After a couple of seconds, they loosened up and Gendry finally saw her face.  
She was so much older, looked so different, but still the same.  
His chest clenched together from the heaviness of his heart as he looked into her face. He had to fight against the sudden weakness in his limps, otherwise he would’ve sunken onto his knees right in front of her – and the entire court.  
How often had he dreamed of her? How often had he -unsuccessfully- tried not to think about her? Rid himself from every dream, every damned imagination he had of her, in order not to feel the sharp pain crossing his chest. She was the only one that had ever wanted him. The only one that had ever fought for him, and he was too blind and oblivious to see it until she was gone for good. Back then of course he wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen as he was nothing more than a worthless bastard and she was a Lady and of course, only a child. Now he was still a bastard, worthless, but he carried on the blood of Robert Baratheon, which somehow filled his empty life with a little bit of pride and confidence.

Sometimes, during the endless seeming days back when he was working in the forge back in Flea Bottom long before Davos had found him, arming men he despised, he thought he saw her, thought he heard her voice.  
He would stand in the forge, hammering on a sword mindlessly, and then in one mere second in which he looked up, he’d see her passing by, or sometimes hear her voice in the distance.  
He’d immediately abandon his work and chase after the ambiguous impression, always left doomed to be disappointed by who he found - if he found someone.  
Short girls, some with short dark hair and grey eyes, but they were never her eyes.  
They carried on walking, and he was always just standing there, his heart threatening to burst with all the left behind memories that suddenly started to flood into it once again.  
Like a dam in a small river, that was almost crashed by the heaviness of the melt down snow in spring. He had to mentally kick himself, yell at his fantasies so that he could move out of the way, back into the forge. Back into his life.  
Without any feelings, trying to ignore the tension that would always settle inside into his body, once he thought he had seen her.

And now he was at Winterfell. The place that Arya had talked about so often, back when everything was normal.  
It was exactly how he had imagined it to be. How she always explained it so in detail when she - in some nights – had felt the urge to reminiscing about her past and her home.  
She’d talk about the yard, the long dark hallways, the training area with the swords where she would sneak off into, when her brothers were finished with their arrows and swords.  
However, she never talked about the family that lived inside of the castle, only about the castle itself. He figured that from the way she was reacting when he had mentioned her father, that it had pained her too much to talk about him and her siblings.  
The only one she sometimes managed to mention was her brother Jon.  
Her favorite brother.  
Sometimes he dared to wonder if she had ever thought about him. Had ever asked what might have happened to him after Melisandre had taken him away. If she ever reacted the same way once she thought about him, like she had reacted when he had talked about Lord Stark in front of her.  
He was only dreaming then, why would she ever waste her time like that?

However, he was here now. And she was home.  
He knew she’d be there as Jon had mentioned it towards a group of people on the journey to Winterfell, but she didn’t know he was coming.  
And when she finally looked into his eyes as they were standing around in the court, for a split second, he could see something in them, actually see her react, before they turned cold and distanced. He frowned then and while Jon was introducing him, he begged for it to come back. Her eyes only flickered when Jon said the name Baratheon, but that was about it. The Hound had later on mocked him for her cold reaction towards her former travelling companion, as she had been way warmer and friendlier to Sandor himself. Gendry had heard that they had reunited more cheerfully and happy, but he hadn’t seen it in person, as he was already settling into the forge then, along with the other men that brought in the Dragonglass, ready to do his job. Banishing the feelings out of his mind and heart once again.  
*  
Almost five days had passed since they had arrived at Winterfell, and most of the time he didn’t see a lot of what was happening outside the forge or inside the rooms of the castle.  
Of course, he had heard the rumors about a certain revelation. Had noticed the way Jon was looking at the Dragon Queen back when they were still sailing, and how different they interacted with each other since they came to Winterfell. However, he wasn’t really sure what was actually going on. And he found he had no reason to be interested in their relationship. It was none of his business anyway. 

Until one particular evening. 

He was requested to stay in the great hall after they ate, and he watched as almost all of the soldiers and wildlings slowly made their way out of the huge hall.  
A handful of people were still gathered around the room, enough to count them with two hands, and Gendry himself couldn’t help but grow suspicious at the thought of why exactly he had to be there.  
Soon enough his eyes settled on the one person they were always returning to, no matter how hard he scolded himself afterwards. Still this was different, they hadn’t been this close together since he was formerly introduced to her.  
Arya was seated on the other side of the room next to her siblings and watched carefully as Bran started to explain the situation. Jon visibly clenched as his little brother started to outline what he had seen over the past couple of moons and what he had come to know about.  
He talked about the white walkers and how many days they would need until they’d reach them, about the dead Dragon – at which Gendry could see something flicker up in Daenerys face, either it was disgust, shame or simply hate, he couldn’t tell it apart – and then about Jon Snow and what his true heritage was.  
It was a long evening as everyone left in the room discussed the new details and how they should deal with everything. Gendry himself only spoke once, when asked how long he would need to finish with the swords and armor he was constantly working on. Other than that, he was quietly listening. Ser Davos made a few helpful suggestions for their path, and the little girl that wasn’t such a little girl, but Lyanna Mormont, seemed somehow more infuriated and enraged about the newly gained information then everyone else altogether. 

Halfway through the night he felt someone was looking at him.  
At first, he thought he was solemnly imagining it, but the way his skin tickled and heat ran through his veins, it could only be explained as someone was moving their eyes over his frame.  
For a little while, he endured it, but his skin slowly grew hotter and hotter with each second passing by, and then he couldn’t help it any longer. He moved his gaze around the room until he found the force behind the sudden numbness of his limps. 

His eyes met hers and for the first time since he arrived they had an actual contact. She didn’t look away but answered his gaze somewhat confident, but still distanced and cold. After a couple of seconds, she once again moved her eyes over his frame. Over his neck down to his shoulders and alongside his chest.  
He was on fire.  
While his insides were burning up underneath her gaze he simply had to wonder if that would be what it felt like to get burned to ashes by one of Daenerys’ Dragons.  
Her eyes were sharp and still distanced, like she was judging him for what he had grown into, but then again, they were not, but filled with something he couldn’t quite place.  
Maybe he was just too stupid, he thought.  
A familiar feeling settled down in his stomach and he mentally cursed himself that it was not the right moment for such a thing. The tension inside his arteries built up, and he felt how it was swirling through his body. The desire almost pained him physically.

And then in an instant, it was gone. 

She had looked over to her brother - who apparently was now her cousin, but still King in the North and so much more, what greatly confused Gendry, and almost all of the other people in the room too, he was sure about that.  
Even if it was the only thing that he was sure about.  
Unfortunately, the heat inside his own body did not vanish like he had pleaded for it too, but lingered there longer until they finished their conference when the moon was already standing high over Winterfell. 

It pained him, but he knew he had no other choice but to once again fall into his imaginations to release the tension that had built up inside his body. He was beyond grateful to find the other smithies gathered around a fire, further away from the forge. They were yelling around, drunken and light headed as he moved into the forge and closed the heavy door behind him. Finally, he was alone with his thoughts. Surrounded by nothing but silence.

It must’ve been around midnight when he heard someone enter the smithy. For a short second he thought that one of the men didn’t find their own bed anymore as the beer had temporarily killed all their brain cells. He mentally prepared himself to kick the drunken intruder out of his bed as soon as they’d crawl in - maybe even use his hammer if needed - and then swirled around to set his eyes on whoever was about to get his face smashed in. 

*

Getting out of the castle and into the forge was easier than she had thought it could be. Some of the smithies that she had known for a couple of moons now, were spread around a slowly dying fire in the front yard, but he wasn’t upon them.  
She moved through the shadows over to the forge and lightly made her way through the familiar setting. It smelled like smoke, armor and something else that only someone who had spent some time of their lives in a forge could classify. 

It smelled like him. 

The version of him that still haunted her in her memories. He wasn’t the man that she had once known when he entered the Gates of Winterfell. Even though she was prepared to be reunited with a lot of familiar faces, his was not one she had imagined to see among the people that travelled with her brother. She had immediately spotted him as she walked down the stairs over to Sansa and Bran, who were already greeting their big brother. She hugged him tightly, not wanting for anyone to see the confusion that suddenly crept onto her face. And she somehow hated how Gendry’s appearance kind of ruined her family reunion, as she could not let go of the thoughts that were swirling around in her head like a blizzard.  
Why was he here at her home? How could he be alive? How had he met her brother and how the hell was she supposed to react to him being there?  
In some sad, lonely night that she spent in Braavos and even here, she would fantasize about a reality in which he wasn’t dead, in which they wouldn’t have been forced to leave each other’s side. How it would’ve been if he had come with her to Winterfell.  
However, she always rid herself of those thoughts just in time, so she wouldn’t get all welled up. As a faceless man she wouldn’t get to spent time drooling about someone from her past. 

And now he was at Winterfell, and suddenly he wasn’t some lowborn bastard named Waters, but a bastard from a King. The King that was her fathers former friend. A King she had met a couple of times, had spoken to.  
She didn’t tell the truth to Jon or anyone else. Didn’t explain their past together, and he didn’t either. All she got from him was the salutation which she could have done without.  
Damned Milady.  
And more didn’t happen. She ignored him as well as she could. She knew that if she’d try to speak to him without thinking about what she’d want to say to him, it could easily escalate into a rather unwelcome situation in which she’d most likely pursue to kill him.  
However, watching him working at the forge, throwing the hammer around, and heating the swords in the fire there wasn’t exactly helping her cause, as it would only bring all of those abandoned memories back of how she’d watch him working when they were children. These dreadful memories that left her with a feeling of imperfection. Like there was still something she had to finish, before she could move on. 

And during this evening, it was particularly bad. She felt as if her ribcage was crunched together and the broken bones were dragging into her lungs, forcing all of the air out in one single flush. Leaving nothing inside her except a horrid feeling of total shock and emptiness. While she was staring at his face from the distance, some sort of familiar feeling rushed through her veins, making her speechless.  
And in between seconds she felt it.  
That one sensation that had rushed through her body for the first time when she was watching him back in Harrenhal.  
She remembered how she had looked at his clenched abdominal muscles and how she felt that tingly feeling travel down her spine and settle uncomfortably in the small space between her legs.  
And right then, not in Harrenhal but in Winterfell, she felt the exact sensation once more. Bare attraction she had never felt again even once, until this very moment.  
Why now? She questioned herself furiously.

During the entire evening she couldn’t keep her eyes off of his frame. She’d bluntly stared at him while he was eating across from her in the great hall, and honestly, she didn’t give a shit who would see her do so. He didn’t seem to notice, but sometimes she felt his eyes go over the room, stop in her direction and then go back to his food.  
Jon had requested the audience, and while Bran explained all of the details she had heart countless times before during the last couple of days, her eyes mindlessly wandered back to his body.  
She took in all of him. His dark hair, that was cut short now, his tanned skin with some marks that time and stress had left on his face, how his mouth was pushed together and how his steel blue eyes wandered around over Bran while he spoke. He seemed like a small animal that was trapped between a bunch of hunters, unaware of how he should behave.  
Like he had no fucking idea what he was supposed to do there. While he looked absolutely helpless, Arya let her eyes trail further down his body. His shoulders were even wider than the last time she had looked at them and he was even taller now.  
And when her eyes crawled back upwards, over his chest and his neck, she was caught at surprise to be staring right into his blue ones.  
She couldn’t tell what his expression was supposed to tell her, but he seemed more intrigued by her watching him, then averse.  
So, she let her eyes go over his frame once more, and when she noticed the redness that was spreading on his cheeks, she quickly averted her gaze back to her brother, who was now discussing something with Daenerys Targaryen, somehow embarrassed.  
She felt as if it was wrong. She was a warrior, had taken revenge for her family, had killed people that were standing in her way. And now she was blushing out of embarrassment because of a boy. Like a mindless little girl. 

After Jon had closed the meeting and everyone left the Hall, he was gone pretty quickly.  
She didn’t directly search for him, but when her eyes travelled around she wasn’t able to find him.  
Arya went to her room, changed into clothes that were more fitted for sleeping and crawled underneath the furs on her bed. 

However, she couldn’t sleep, as there was still something that needed to be finished. Something she had thought she had finished with ages ago.  
Back when they got separated. When he left her, and she was heartbroken over the loss of a friend for weeks on end, before she pulled herself together and forced herself to finally get over it. 

Now he was here, and all of those shitty little thoughts came back crashing into her head, especially since time didn’t fuck him up and make him ugly, but only seemed to have enhanced his appearance and his effect on her even more.  
Heat rose through her while her thoughts travelled back to this evening. How his blue eyes were still the same, how his body seemed so strong and how the redness flushed on his cheeks as she stared at him bluntly – oh gods, and now she did it again. She behaved like some fucked up teenager that couldn’t control themselves.  
Worse than that, she was like the past Sansa that cried around because of some awful little crappy boy.  
She was damned Arya of House Stark, and she couldn’t behave like some mare in heat. In one brief moment the decision hit her like his hammer, so she arose from her bed, pulled over her cloak and boots and made her way out of her room. 

Despite the fact that she grew up in Winterfell and was used to the harsh temperatures of the North, she realized that Braavos and its warmer temperatures had changed her power to endure the cold quite a bit. After only a couple of seconds, her cheeks were freezing from the hard wind, and she couldn’t help but wonder how on earth those soldiers managed to lie around the fire without freezing to death. 

It was quiet in the forge, only the crackling of the embers was audible, such as the small noises that her boots made while she walked over the dirty floor to the back room.  
His door wasn’t locked, and even though she tried to push it open as gentle and silent as she possibly could, she knew that he would hear her.  
Right after Arya had managed to close the door again behind her and settle her eyes on his frame, he swirled around in his bed.  
His expression seemed somehow annoyed until he spotted her in the dim lighting, and his face fell into a state that could only be described as complete shock.  
Wasn’t expecting me huh?  
She wondered but didn’t ask. She couldn’t bring herself to form any kind of words while he only starred at her like some doe that was caught by a pack of wolves.  
Apparently, that was now his new favorite expression.  
She had to ask herself why she was here again. Wonder what she had thought when deciding to search him up in the middle of the night. What she thought would happen, what she had wanted to happen.  
Because right now, as she was staring into his eyes, there was only one thing she wanted to do.


	2. Chapter 2

His eyes were wide open and all of the color was slowly fading out of his face.  
This is it. He thought to himself.  
I’m going to die.  
Without a word she moved over to his bed. Feline like a cat that made no sound whatsoever until she came to a halt right in front of him, where she let her cloak drop of her small shoulders onto the floor.  
Gendry didn’t say anything, only waited for her to pull out needle or another blade and slide his throat open in an act of revenge.  
He knew she wanted to.  
Wanted to punish him for leaving her. Arya Stark wasn’t one to forgive, he was very well aware of that.

She did not do such thing, and against all the odds, something different showed up on her face. Another expression, one he hadn’t seen before. Her pupils were rather dialed and her breath grew shorter as her eyes wandered over his face.  
She looked into his eyes with a stern expression that left him breathless as she moved her hands onto both sides of his neck and pulled her legs over his so that she could sit on his lap.  
A short-shocked gasp escaped his lips as she placed herself on top of him. Again, her eyes stared right into his, and the look in her eyes made all the blood run straight from his head into the lower regions of his body.  
When she started to run her fingertips over the soft skin on his neck, he felt how his abdomen clenched together painfully and he gasped, unwillingly.  
Her eyes followed her fingertips as they wandered over his collar over to his pulse point, where she stopped and he wondered whether or not she was debating what to do next.  
Without looking into his eyes again, she moved forward and closed the distance between the both of them.  
It seemed like he was caught in one of his dreams.  
The pressure of her lips was hard at first and she moved her mouth over his almost erratically, like she wanted to get the most out of this moment.  
It’s a trap. It has to be. She’s luring me.  
He couldn’t touch her, didn’t allow himself to set his hand on her body, even though there was nothing he desired more than to feel her soft skin against the palm of his hand. Against his skin.  
He could feel how the restraint in his body slowly faded away, as her mouth went faster and her hands wandered over his back almost helplessly, like she desperately tried to find something there.  
He moaned into her mouth and pushed himself back, trying to escape, but still returning her kiss. After all he had to respond to her actions. His mind couldn’t fight against his body right now. His sanity would never win. Still he was careful not to lay a hand on her.  
He had dreamed about this moment for so long, that he couldn’t just sit there and not answer to her touch. This was Arya after all and he had loved her, since they had been nothing more but children. Though he wouldn’t tell her that yet – if ever.  
All the thoughts left his brain, as she moved her hips over his, making his groin throb almost painfully.  
However, as her hands started to work on his breeches, desperate to open them, something stirred inside of him.  
“Stop. Don’t.”  
He breathed out harshly after pulling his mouth away from hers and getting a grip of her small, tiny wrists, trying his best to stop her movements and to ignore the way her skin felt in his own.  
Her eyes were glowing at him in a stunning black, her pupils even more dialed than before, so that there was only a small ring of the lovely grey left, that he had longed to see for so long. After a second of only staring into each other’s eyes, she sat up more straightly in his lap and moved her face alongside his cheek tenderly.  
He didn’t even know that she could be this tender.  
Every time her lips touched his skin, it sent shivers down his back that made him pull back from her, wanting to escape the feeling, before it could fuck his brain up completely.  
This can’t happen. The voice screamed inside his head.  
He knew she could feel his cock throbbing underneath her body. There was no way she wouldn’t be able to feel it, with her body pressed so close onto that particular area of his own.  
A small gasp escaped his lips as she started to whisper into his ear.  
“I know you want this.” Her voice was quiet, but hoarse and his insides twisted even harder at her words.  
“You can’t lie to me. Why do you deny this?”  
She moved away just an inch and stared right into his eyes, like she was searching for something.  
Her lips were bruised and reddened from all the kissing and her cheeks were flushed deeply. She looked like she was feverish, and if he wouldn’t know better he would have thought she had a cold.  
She moved over to the other side of his face.  
“I want this.” She said honestly and he couldn’t even hear the tiniest bit of a doubt or an insecurity in her voice.  
“I want you.”  
He wished all his good sense a warm farewell at that. 

*

Half of the time Arya had no idea what she was doing. It was the first time she had ever felt this way for someone, longed for someone. She craved for him to touch her, to finish this, so she could finally move on and focus on the more important tasks right now. 

All the right thoughts had left her head anyways when she had started to kiss him, and she simply choose to act on what her instincts had told her, instead of thinking too much about where she should place her hands, how she should move and whether or not she should give into that ache that pleaded for her to rub herself alongside his strong body.  
She wasn’t thinking at all, only feeling. Finally allowing herself to, after she had spent so much time trying her best to ignore all of those thoughts she has had over the past couple of years.  
After all she could now give into them and let them take her over.  
And so, she did.  
Heat rushed through her body and she could feel the coil that was building up inside the pit of her stomach, right over where she most longed to be touched.  
She took in as much of him as she could at once. The way he moved underneath her, how he fumbled around while she let her hands explore his muscular back that was frustratingly still covered up underneath some sort of cloth.  
And his smell. That particular sent that she had craved for so long. It was like a mixture between the smell of heated iron and burning coal, such as the smell of his skin, that was now so close against hers. So close that she could feel how the heat was radiating from it.  
Arya felt how his muscles clenched underneath her touch and how he rocked away when she started to move her hips against his.  
She could feel how the flush crept onto her cheeks as she felt his cock throb underneath the layers of his breeches.  
He couldn’t hide it, no matter if he wanted to or not. She knew that he wanted this at least as much as she did. After all his mouth responded to all of her movements, meeting her lips with as much eagerness as she had shown him, demanding more.  
Somehow, she still felt at least a little bit unsure, as his hands were still holding onto the mattress instead of her skin. 

Only after he had denied her to open his breeches, she felt all the doubts take her over completely for a second. She wondered if she had made a mistake for a mere moment, just before she looked into his eyes.  
And the doubts vanished again just as quickly as they had entered her body.  
His pupils were huge and there was a layer of pure desire coating them, like fog that had settled into a valley early before dawn. His voice was hoarse and scratchier than usual as he fought for his breath that came out irregularly and short. His cheeks and his neck were covered by a dark flush that travelled down over his collarbone until it disappeared where his chest moved heavily underneath the fabric that had annoyed her so much only a moment ago.  
Arya could feel how he trembled underneath her when she whispered into his ears, unable to raise her voice, as she was unsure whether or not she still had one.  
He moved his body lightly and his erection once again streaked her thigh, at which she had to suppress the urge to let out the breath she was holding in so tightly. She knew he wanted this, wanted her. Even if he denied it, his body couldn’t lie.  
Not to her anyway.  
And when her mouth had finally formed the truth she knew he needed to hear, she could practically see how the restraint that had been holding him back just a couple of seconds ago, vanished out of his eyes.  
She gasped out of surprise, even more loudly than she would have ever wanted to, when he wrapped his strong arms around her waist at last, grabbing her firmly but not so much that it would be hurting her.  
His hands digging into her back, keeping her chest flushed closely against his as he captured her lips with his own, even more wildly and erratic than before. She didn’t even have enough time to be surprised by his sudden movements as all the thoughts were flowing around in her head once more. All she could do was answer all of his touches, and his movements with the same strength and certainty.  
She wanted this. Had wanted this for so many years now. And she couldn’t resist any longer.  
She moved away from his mouth just long enough so that she could pull that annoying piece of cloth, which had been wrapped around his torso, over his head and toss it mindlessly to the floor. Happy to finally be able to take in the sight of his strong chest and his muscular abdomen, that was even more defined now, in difference from what she had seen so many years ago. She had wanted to marvel at his sight for more than just a small moment, but she had soon been broken off when his lips met hers once more, sucking at hers, his tongue moving over her bottom lip. With a small sight she opened her mouth, finally letting him inside of her body. While their tongues battled each other for dominance, something Arya had always thought to be a gross, hideous sensation, but now quite enjoyed it, as it brought him so much closer to her, she let her hands explore his chest. She let them travel over his collarbones down onto his pecks, swiftly wander over his nipples at which he moaned a strangled sound into her mouth, unable to pull away. When he did move his lips away from her mouth, he let them wander over her cheeks down her neck and lightly kissed the nape of her neck, sucking at it tenderly before he moved his mouth further south over her collarbone at which she threw her head back in order to let him have more access to the soft skin. While his mouth concentrated on placing soft kisses onto her skin, his hands moved around over her back, tugging the lower ends of her nightgown out of her breeches before he pulled his mouth away and started to undo the constricted laces on the front of her gown, his hands trembling lightly in anticipation. 

Which each moment Arya grew more and more anxious, wanting to finally get rid of the fabric that was still separating her chest from his mouth. There was a strange sensation running through her nipples, almost like an ache that only he could release. A feeling that made her so needy that she simply couldn’t wait any longer. Before he had finished with the laces, she simply stopped his movements and pulled the entire gown over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside just like she had done it with his tunic.  
She looked into his eyes as he took in the sight of her bare chest. She felt at least a little bit embarrassed at how he stared at her, his eyes scanning every single curve, every inch of her skin, making the heat rise even further up inside her body. Like there was no blood but boiling water rushing through her arteries.  
When she tried to get him to move his gaze away by kissing him once more, he simply stopped her, by placing his hand on her chin, then looking into her eyes. While something that must’ve looked like confusion crept up insider hers, his eyes were completely dark, pure want visible inside the pupil as he stared into her eyes. Harshly.  
Her mouth was still open, only an inch away from his and she felt his breath on her lips as Gendry’s gaze wandered away from her eyes, over her cheeks and her nose, until they reached her lips. His hand was still holding onto her chin, tight but tenderly, and he let his thumb stroke over her bottom lip, making her release a shuffled breath. She swore there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he watched her, just for a second, and then his gaze was solid again. Almost alluring.  
They sat like that, so close, his gaze fixed on her lips, hers on his eyes, before he slightly moved his hand away from her chin, freeing her movements.  
Their kiss was gentler than before. Not as helpless and erratic than their first kisses had been, but slower, like they wanted to take their time to properly explore each-others mouths. However, it didn’t last long, as Arya simply couldn’t help it any longer.  
She felt like the passion finally overtook her, and she flushed her body straight against his, her chest with the erect nipples pressing onto his, and she moved further upwards so she could get better access to his mouth, once again letting her tongue move inside his mouth.  
The way his hands moved over her back, strong and determined only encouraged her and when his hands finally traveled around her sides to cup her breast, she moaned right into his mouth. She felt how the heaviness that had made her breasts ache just seconds ago, flooded out of her body as he stroked her nipples with his thumbs and the feeling of release was almost enough to push her over into the abyss she hadn’t even known she was standing by.  
She grabbed on to his shoulders as he simply moved a hand over to her back and twisted her inside his arms so she was pinned between his body and the hard mattress. The sudden movement made her gasp for air and when she looked back up into his face, he was actually smiling.  
Something that she herself hadn’t seen often, even though the both of them had spent so much time together. Still the way he looked at her now made her feel more at home than she had during the entire time she had been at Winterfell so far.  
He was now kneeling between her wide spread thigs, and her legs were actually hanging over his calves, grabbing her onto him. The posture made her feel more helpless than she usually liked, in a fight there wouldn’t have been an easy way to get out of this position. However, now there was no way she could possibly want to get away from him like she would’ve tried to do during a battle. Even though her bare torso which was exposed so much, kind of made her feel uncomfortable.  
Like he was able to see the unpleasant thought go through her mind, he started to place soft kisses from her collarbone, further and further downwards until he reached the once again aching area.  
His tongue travelled over her nipples, from time to time letting his teeth meet the soft skin around them and she thought she’d go insane every single time. Her hands went into his hair, and she found that it would’ve probably been a better feeling if his hair would’ve still been long enough for her to actually grab onto it. His hands were now on her breasts so that his mouth could travel further south going over the soft skin of her stomach and coming to a halt when his mouth found her scar.  
She felt how his lips and tongue travelled over it for a second, trying to figure out what it was, before he opened his eyes and took a look at the unfamiliar sensation.  
He mustered the scar that had been healed since many moons now, and she slightly let her hands go over his hair once more, feeling more comfortable. After what had felt like an eternity he moved his eyes over to hers, and she could see the concern behind them.  
Feeling she needed to say something, instead of only giving him a small smile, she softened her eyes and tried to form audible words, though they only came out as a whisper.  
“It’s alright. It was nothing.”  
He pressed his face to her skin for a second, his eyes closed as he inhaled sharply and then kissed the skin there where the knife had gotten into her body.  
Instead of moving further downwards with his lips, he came up once more, his arms next to her body, keeping him from crushing his weight onto her.

Arya had to suppress the frustrated groan that she so desperately tried to hold in, as he once again distanced himself from her most aching area. Annoyed by her own burning desire and how weak it made her feel, she felt like she was on the brink of losing the remaining rest of her sanity when he started to once again place tender kisses to her neck and her collar.  
Like he didn’t want this as much as she did. Like his insides weren’t coiling with the heat.  
It was like he purposely tried to torture her, and for a second, she wondered if he seriously wanted to punish her for something she had done in the past. He had to know how much she wanted this, had to know exactly what he was currently doing to her.  
How he kept himself together, she had no idea.  
For another brief moment she was actually able to wonder why he would want to torment her like this, why he still refused to let her reach the peak she needed so much.  
Like he was able to read her mind, he pulled his head a little bit back so that he could look into her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that there was a specific reason for him to deny her what her body craved so insanely, as he fixed her gaze on her face, letting his eyes wander over her features that were now probably covered in a crimson color, the thoughts stopped swirling around in her head instantly.  
His eyes narrowed just a little bit and he shifted on top of her, moving his weight over to rest on only one of his strong arms, that were lustrous from the heat of his body, mixed with the remaining heat from the forge. 

With his one arm now free of the weight he had previously placed on it, he started to slowly let his fingers wander over her skin once more. 

He obviously wanted to torture her.

Eager to get more of the feeling of their bodies pressed together, skin meeting skin as their heat mixed together, she pushed herself further up so his hand inevitably travelled down over her stomach. In the instant that she shifted his eyes snapped back upwards, locking with her own. 

She must’ve looked fucking degrading. Her hair rustled, her own skin blushing furiously and her mouth half opened as she let out small gasps of air.  
However, there was not the tiniest hint of something like that mirrored in his own features as he himself opened his mouth absent-mindedly and let his tongue moisture his lower lip unconsciously. 

Another silent moan escaped her mouth at the seductiveness of the sight, unable to control the feelings that rushed through her body. Never in her life she would’ve imagined that she – a faceless man, trained to kill in the most veiled manner possible – would one day have to fight against the urge to push herself eagerly in someone else’s lap, needing to feel the friction of body against body so desperately that she felt like she’d go insane without it. 

And right now, here in the room behind the forge, just inches and few walls separated them from the other man that were hanging around outside, while they practically devoured each other with their eyes. 

Within an instant his mouth was on hers again, his tongue licking over her lower lip, forcing her to let him gain more and more access, until every last inch of their lips was pressed together. Tongues moving with each other occasionally interrupted by short gasps and moans, while their heads moved ever so lightly in order to let each other explore as much as possible.  
She had no idea whether or not this was how a kiss should feel like, had no idea if she did it right, the only thing she was sure of, was that she would probably die if he ever intended to stop.

With each second, they grew more and more desperate, their mouths moving further and deeper, every move earned closure that was soon found not to be close enough.  
From then on everything went by pretty fast, her brain unable to comprehend everything that went on.  
His tongue inside her mouth – strong and at the same time so tender and lovingly, his lips roaming over hers – eager to get more. How he stopped kissing her own mouth just to place softer smoother kisses onto her cheek, her jaw, her pulse point – further down until he reached that area just above her collarbone in the crook of her neck that made her moan even more furiously. How his eyes met hers in brief moments, establishing that feeling of intimacy that was currently flooding between them.  
How his free hand somehow ended up inside her pants, travelling over her thighs, the inside of them, while his lips were on hers again, his bare chest pressed against hers. And her fingers digging into his back so senseless that she was sure she they’d leave red dark scratch marks behind.  
And then his hand was there, finally moving against her where she most ached for him, his fingers coaxing through her folds, spreading the wetness that had built there all over his fingers. He didn’t kiss her then but stared into her eyes. Deep and intense, ripping down even the last barrier that she had so carefully built up to protect herself from any kind of vulnerability. In that moment, she knew there was no use in pretending, no sense to cover up any longer. 

She was the most vulnerable and open she had been in years and she longed for nothing more but for him to take her and finally let her experience the kind of closeness and intimacy of which she had sealed herself off for so many years, as she had neglected her deepest feelings and emotions. 

It took nothing more but a reassuring look into each other’s eyes, a second of staring at each other with narrow eyes, open mouths and heated inaudible gasps for them to push even the last remaining bit of uncertainty off of their shoulders. 

And then the rest of his clothes were gone, tossed somewhere through the room, and her pants were now recumbent on the pile of coats and tunics that was located next to his bed.  
And he was between her legs, moving around slightly to position himself, his cock throbbing while he took in the sight of her so openly displayed in front of him.  
He looked utterly intimidating in his current position, a greedy almost animalistic look on his face while he looked into her eyes. His fingers still spread over her sex, ever so often slipping inside her, forcing out more groans and gasps from her. 

If he had tormented her before, he was now intentionally trying to kill her. Murder her in the most crucial, vicious way possible as he was still not inside her.  
And she would let him.  
Still teasing her with his fingers, while he himself didn’t look any less tortured, but agonized. 

“Please…”

It escaped her mouth before she could think about it – not that her brain would’ve been able to form any coherent thoughts now anyways, but still – 

However, that somehow seemed like it was exactly what he had needed, in an instant his fingers were gone, as he had to stabilize his position on top of her, both his arms resting next to her head, his eyes locked with her own as he slowly started to push himself inside of her. 

It was an unusual feeling, something completely new, entirely different from what she had expected. It didn’t go by as smooth and as easy as it first seemed like, and when he was slowed down by her barrier, she quickly moved her own hips upward further until their hips crushed together and he was completely settled inside her. Both gasping loudly at the sudden movement they had to take a moment to adapt to each other before he started to move inside her. 

Slow and restrained at first, but fastening his pace with every little movement, the desperation taking hold of him as she started to move alongside him, meeting his thrusts eagerly.  
Their chests pressed together, creating friction between every inch of skin they could possibly offer to each other.  
She felt like she grew hotter and moister with every one of their thrusts, the bit of sharp pain she had felt eventually overshadowed by the ache and the tension that built up in the coil of her stomach. Her hands still clasping at his back while he placed erratic uncontrolled kisses all over her neck, her collar and her breasts, as far down as he could without breaking their tender passionate rhythm.  
And with each thrust, each little movement, each meeting of flesh against flash, bare and heated with need, all she could think was – more.

All she wanted. 

More of the feeling that rose inside her body when she felt how his cock moved insider her, stretching her inner walls, more of his moans and gasps, his kisses and how his hands trailed over her skin without actually crushing his entire weight onto her body, more of the heat of his skin against her own and the smell of his skin, and the look in his eyes when she actually managed to force her own eyes open to look at him, unable to resist as his breath made the hairs on her necks stand up. More of how the tension travelled downwards further and further and how he somehow managed to make her clench around him so uncontrollably that she felt like she would lose her sanity for good.

And when he finally gave into her, gave her everything he had, moaning her name out as his body trembled over her own, his hands clasping the sheets next to her head and she felt how he widened inside of her, stretching her even further, she pulsated with him and took in every last piece of himself that he willingly offered to her. 

Breathing hard he collapsed on her own body, unable to move an inch further and to hold his weight up, as he was completely downed himself.  
She felt his breath on her chest, his cheek pressing onto her own collar while he relaxed inside of her, and his limps went numb against her own body.  
Arya let her hands wander through his hair, over the skin of his neck, sometimes rising her head up to place small kisses on top of his own. 

And while his breath grew steadier and they both calmed down, his fingers started to draw small patterns onto her arms, making tingles go down her spine again, all she could think was that she was completely and utterly fucked. 

As she had no idea how she could ever recover and move on from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you enough for your amazing response to my first chapter of this little drabble. Honestly, I wasn't so sure wether or not I should publish this, but all your lovely comments have really urged me on to finish this. I am beyond grateful for the amount of support you've shown me for this (and my smutty little mind)! <3  
> Thank you so much for your kindness:D  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter...
> 
> P.S.: once again, constructive critisism about spelling an grammar mistakes is deeply appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written pretty much out of nowhere. It's not the first Gendrya fanfiction I've written, but the only one I've yet forced myself to publish.  
> English isn't my native language, so I'd actually appreciate it if you point my spelling and grammar mistakes out.  
> Thank you for reading <3


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